Covering a Multitude of Sins
by TakenHawkeye
Summary: Ten short pieces showing a few scenes revolving around the separate characters and interactions. With a bit of a twist. Will review all who review me.


**1. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.**

"Look at him, will you, Frank?" Margaret stared at the photo in admiration, a grin playing about her lips. "Those shoulders, that strong chin -- Oh, Frank, I get tingles just thinking about him."

Frank nodded. "A stern leader, out to bring freedom and democracy to the hedonists of communism. A Commander in Chief to last all the ages." He glanced at the woman beside him. "Oh Margaret, we can be proud, knowing we serve under this man."

General Douglass MacArthur blankly stared back at them from beneath the glass, tucked behind the frame.

"He's practically family, Frank." Margaret pompously raised her chin. "He served with my father in the war; did I tell you that? Right at home we have a photo sitting on the mantel addressed to my father."

"Oh, Margaret."

"I'm practically related to him."

Frank turned from the photo, eyes suddenly glued to Margaret. "When you talk like that it drives me wild."

"Frank!" Margaret batted him away with a free hand, gesturing at the framed picture. "Not in front of him."

Nodding, he turned away.

"Look at him." Margaret repeated. "A strong, virile, competent leader, fighting the enemy with an iron fist, ruling the Army with a --" She trailed off.

"Margaret?"

Hesitating she took the frame into her hands, staring at it for a moment before laying it face down on her desk. She sighed.

"Just this once, Frank."

**2. Thou shalt not worship false idols.**

"'Scuse me, Captain --"

"Hawkeye."

"Right. 'Scuse me, Captain Hawkeye --" Rolling his eyes, Hawkeye exchanged an amused look with Trapper as the young Corporal dug through his bag. "But I've got your mail. Three from a --" Squinting his eyes, Radar struggled to read the loopy handwriting. " -- A Cray Babble Cone? Cren Pabble Cave?"

Breaking out in a grin, Hawkeye pulled at the letter and tore it open. "Crabapple Cove."

Trapper quickly glanced up, gin sloshing. "What the hell kind of name is that?"

Radar shrugged. "I think it's kind of nice." Handing Trapper a stack of envelopes, he hesitated.

"Jane from down the street got married. Dad says she --" Suddenly, Hawkeye noticed the young man was still standing before him, expectantly waiting. "What is -- need something?"

Biting at his lip, Radar shuffled from one foot to another. "No I was -- well, actually, can -- I was only wondering, is all --" He paused, taking a deep breath. "I just wanted to ask you sirs something."

Hawkeye hastily shoved his letter back in its envelope, moving aside to make room for Radar on the cot.

"There's this nurse, you see --"

Again, the two Captains exchanged a look. "Ah. A nurse."

Nodding vigorously, Radar continued. "Well, I know you sirs -- I mean, with both of your experiences put together -- " He cut off, sighing. "She won't even look at me."

"Usually that comes first." Trapper shot the nervous Corporal a crooked grin.

"I was thinking that maybe you sirs knew something I can do." Radar glanced up at the both of them, a hopeful look on his face.

Hawkeye leaned back in the cot, silent and thoughtful for a moment. Realizing both sets of eyes were on him, he made a show of searching for a solution, prolonging the pause. Finally, Radar's anxiety reaching a new high, Hawkeye broke the silence.

"Have you tried talking to her?"

Radar, horror-stricken, could only shake his head. "Well, no, I --"

"There's the problem." Hawkeye stood, making his way over to the newly constructed still as he continued. "Talk to her. Meet her. You can't get past that stage and on to the next if you don't do it."

"The next stage? Oh gee, I --" Radar stopped, catching sight of Hawkeye's face. "I don't think I can. Suppose I say something stupid, or I can't even talk, like."

"Won't know until you try."

Trapper raised his glass, motioning toward Hawkeye. "He's got a point. Can't hurt."

"She could like me even less then, that's what could hurt." Radar glanced away, knee bouncing.

Leaning forward, confidentially, Hawkeye said, plainly, "Is she worth it?"

"What?"

"I said, 'Is she worth it?'"

Giving a half-shrug, Radar worked to find a suitable answer. "Well, she's -- I mean, I -- there's --" He cut off. "Yeah, she's worth it."

Hawkeye merely gave a look, driving his point home.

"I think I'll go and -- I mean, thank you. Both of you Captains. You two are -- well, you're alright." Radar stood, patting the bag at his side. "I -- there's still mail to deliver, but thank you sirs."

Hawkeye brushed it off. "Anytime."

"You mean that?"

Trapper made a motion that loosely resembled a shrug. "'Course we do."

Radar stared down at Hawkeye, admiration in his eyes. "Well -- thanks." Turning away, mail bag clutched in his hand, he scampered out the door into the compound.

Opening his letter again, Trapper nodded in the direction the Corporal had just disappeared. "Think you made a new friend, Hawk."

Hawkeye, already absorbed in his mail, made a noncommittal sound and continued reading.

**3. Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain.**

"God dammit!"

Startled, BJ whipped his head up from his half-darned sock, staring in surprise at the enraged doctor before him. "Hawk?"

Hawkeye, tearing his jacket off and hurling it onto his cot, spun around to face him. "Sergeant Tephons just got his orders." Bitterly, he kicked at the stove, ignoring the pain that shot through his foot. "He's going home."

BJ turned back to his socks, suddenly feeling an emptiness in the pit of his stomach. "That all?"

"That all?" Hawkeye looked over, incredulous. "That all?! Yes, that's all!" In one quick, fluid movement, he snapped a hand out, ripping the socks from the other man's hands and tossing them over his shoulder. "Aren't you listening, Beej? He's going home!"

"That was my sock." BJ pointed, anger rising.

"Who cares about the -- Tephons has been here six months, Beej. Six months! And he's going home!" Lifting a pillow from the nearest cot, he heaved it at the door. "I've been here two years and six months. Years, do you understand that?"

BJ's face softened, watching his bunkmate stagger over to his cot, kicking everything he could reach on the way. "We all want out, Hawk."

"Yeah, well, some of us seem to be getting out faster than others." The anger abruptly left him, leaving Hawkeye empty. Sinking to his cot, he blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

BJ silently stood up and slid next to Hawkeye, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"God dammit." Hawkeye muttered. "It isn't fair."

**4. Thou shalt remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy.**

"Consider, if you will, Exodus 20:8." Father Mulcahy glanced up at the near-empty Mess Tent before him as he recited the verse from memory. In the back, sprawled across the length of the last bench, a man lay loudly snoring. Including him, the Father had an audience of three. He ignored this, choosing instead to wrap up the last of his sermon. Closing the Bible before him, he raised a hand over those awake.

"Rise and receive the benediction." As the sermon came to a close, Father Mulcahy could hear the faint and distant sounds of helicopters approaching. He hated to have to rush to the end, but he did it anyway. He managed to squeeze in a quick Amen moments before the PA crackled to life.

"Attention all personnel, attention. Wounded in the compound. I repeat, wounded in the compound. Looks like a long night, folks."

Slowly, the man on the last bench blinked into consciousness, catching sight of the bustle now surrounding him. Jumping to his feet, he hurried out the door without a glance at the Father.

"Sorry to cut your parade short, Padre," Colonel Potter stuck a hand out, grasping Father Mulcahy's as he made his way past, "But you better get out of that collar and into some scrubs. Seems we've got a long line of work ahead of us."

"Yes well --" Father Mulcahy began, but the Colonel way already halfway to OR, Radar rushing after him.

Sighing as he began to undo his robes and slip off his collar, Father Mulcahy glanced up and muttered a silent prayer.

**5. Honor thy Father and thy Mother.**

"'Dear Son,'" The soldier read, ignoring the shell fire around him, "'Your mother and I were happy to read your last letter, and are relieved to hear you are alright. We miss you and love you dearly'. Wait --" Turning to the man beside him, he called over the bursting bombs, "You'll like this part! 'But we know our son is doing his duty, serving his country. It is in this way we can let you go to do what you must. Hang in there, son. Fight the dirty reds and do us proud'." He shot a look at his audience. "Honest, that's what it says!"

He wondered if they know what it's like, if they can tell in his letters. They ignore his pleas of homesickness, ignore his fears, showering him with false pride and glory.

He remembered, then, the collection of Hemingway novels in his Father's study.

"They want me to stay and be a good little boy, can you believe that?" Artillery rained around him, as he stuffed the letter in his bag, pulling it close. "They can't be serious; they can't possibly know what it's like here."

Leaning over his friend, the soldier gingerly pulled the lids of his eyes shut. "Rest in peace, you hear?"

He stood up, bag over his shoulder, and calmly walked from the battle, wondering how long it would take his commander to realize he was deserting.

**6. Thou shalt not commit adultery.**

"Big date tonight, Frank?" Hawkeye slowly sipped at his glass, eyes fixed on the Major as he dragged a razor along his face.

"Saw Margaret with her hiking boots on, he's got to have one." Trapper picked up a stray surgical glove and began to inflate it.

Frank smirked. Setting down the razor, he began to apply rather liberal amounts of aftershave. "I don't know what you two are talking about. I just feel like being clean-." Giving the two other men a look, he added, "Unlike some people."

"Trap, I think that was almost a shot at us." Hawkeye stood up and step around, shadowing Frank. "No, Frank, you've got a date." He pointed. "See, the nose hairs are gone."

Trapper leaned in close. "Hey, look at that."

Frank jerked back, pulling the towel off from around his neck, and snapped, "I don't know what you're talking about!" He held up a hand, flashing a gold ring at them. "I'm happily married; I don't go on dates." He dropped to the ground, reaching and arm beneath his bed in search of his boot.

"If you're so happily married, Frank, you have a date."

Frank ignored this. "Major Houlihan and I merely have a meeting. An impromptu discussion about -- ah --"

"Surgical techniques in today's modern army?" Trapper supplied.

"Right." Pulling his left boot out from beneath the bed, Frank closely scrutinized it, searching for any signs of tampering by Pierce or McIntyre. Deeming it safe, he quickly slipped it on. He stood up, eyes narrowed at the two Captains across the tent. "Margaret's waiting."

"Give Margaret our love," Hawkeye called over his shoulder as Frank stepped out into the compound. "Although --"

"Hawk." Trapper warned.

Unable to suppress a grin, Frank quickly made his way over to the Head Nurse's tent. He knocked, paused, knocked three more times, paused, and knocked once more. The door flew open, emitting him into a soft, candle-lit tent. Frank disappeared behind the door, jacket already half-off.

Hawkeye made a face. "I don't know who he thinks he's kidding. Even Henry's figured out what's between those two."

Trapper shrugged, reaching for an over shirt, balloon-glove tucked under his arms. "Let him have his delusions." Smoothing his hair down, he shot Hawkeye a smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I hate to keep a nurse waiting. You know how they get when you leave them out in the cold for too long."

"I know," Hawkeye picked up a magazine, settling comfortably on his cot, "I hate stale nurse."

Trapper merely grinned wider, letting the door to the Swamp slam shut behind him.

**7. Thou shalt not steal.**

"Radar!" Colonel Potter poked a head out of his office. "Radar, get on the horn with supply, tell them we need another batch of penicillin, and we need it now. Got that?"

"Yes sir." Radar held the phone halfway to his ear, hesitating. "Uh -- sir?"

"What is it Radar?"

Visibly uncomfortable, Radar began to fidget. "Now, sir, I thought you should know -- it's not my fault, though, and I had nothing to do with it -- I tried to stop him -- but I thought you should know --"

"Spit it out, Radar." Colonel Potter softly interrupted.

"Well, okay." Radar took a deep breath, then quickly said, "Klinger'smissingandIthinkhe'sgonetothe8055th."

Colonel Potter stopped. "Klinger's -- what?"

This time, he slowed down. "Klinger's missing and I think he's gone to the 8055th."

"The 8055th? They're a good ten miles east of here, what in the hell is Klinger doing there?"

Radar stepped back. "Said something about getting more penicillin for us."

"We already called them," Colonel Potter muttered, working to keep his temper in check, "They said they had none to spare."

"I don't think he was going to ask them, sir."

"That Lebanese fool! Parading around Korea, I should report that Mother's Nightmare for being AWOL!" Colonel Potter narrowed his eyes. "Third time this month! I don't care the reasons, he's supposed to stay here!"

Radar heard the squealing of brakes seconds before they sounded, and was already outside by the time Klinger had tumbled from the jeep, a box in hand. Behind him sat three other boxes, filled with what could only be the desperately needed penicillin.

"Klinger!"

Ducking behind a raised box, holding it forth in offering, Klinger hastily got out, "I just saved the lives of countless soldiers, I'm a hero! You wouldn't kill a hero, would you?"

Colonel Potter caught sight of the boxes, eyes softening. As Radar began to unload, he remarked, challenging, "Sure was nice of the 8055th to give us all this."

"About that sir --"

The Colonel sighed. "I thought as much. I hope you left them enough to get by."

Klinger nodded.

Turning away, the elder man paused. "Nice work, Klinger."

**8. Thou shalt not raise false testimony against thy neighbor.**

"On my honor." Trapper raised a hand, tilting his head down in a solemn manner.

"Oddly enough, I hardly find that reassuring." Henry rubbed at his temples, wishing Radar would hurry with those cigars he didn't know he wanted. "I can't give your honor to a General."

"Funny," Hawkeye grinned, "That Henry has more qualms about giving away your honor than you do, Trap."

Henry smacked a hand down on the table. "You guys just don't get it, do you? These are serious charges. You want to wait this war out in Leavenworth? General Fitz wants your heads and if I don't give him them, he's taking mine!"

"Oh, come on Henry." Trapper burst out. "That man's a nuisance and you know it. He supplies half our business without even batting an eye!"

"You think I don't know that?" Standing up, Henry made his way over to his liquor cabinet. "You think that even matters?"

Hawkeye looked on in disbelief. "So you're going to just give him our butts for his sling? All because he's sore at us?"

"Sore at you? Of course he's sore at you! You called I-Corp and told them he was the one that sent MacArthur the brandy laced in sedatives!"

"Us, him, really what does it --"

"Fitz spent a week in the stockade!"

Trapper nodded. "Exactly. And it was the slowest week we've had around here since we set up shop."

Henry ignored the throbbing pain in his head. "Look, guys, I admire what you tried to do, putting a man's freedom and life in jeopardy like that. But even if I get Fitz to lay off, I-Corp has this tiny habit of disliking it when they are flat out lied to."

"Henry --" Hawkeye tried.

Holding a hand up to halt them, Henry added, "I'll get Radar to call them, see if maybe we can't straighten this out. That's the best I can do." As the rose, heading for the office door, Henry lowered himself wearily behind his desk. "You two owe me more than you can pay back, you know this?"

The two Captains exchanged a glance. "What do you think, Trap, a bottle of --"

"Yeah, the scotch ought to cover --"

Henry paused, considering this. "Right. The scotch and we're even."

**9. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor.**

"Listen to this, Hawk," BJ raised the letter, reading from it, "Peg says Erin's almost walking. She'll pull herself up, clutching onto the table, then totter all around it. Just goes in circles, over and over again, laughing and giggling. Peg says it's the cutest thing to see, she says I've got to watch it." BJ trailed off, lowering the letter. "God, I miss them."

Hawkeye made a noncommittal sound and reached for another martini, unnoticed by BJ.

"She's walking already. She could hardly open her eyes when I left, now she's walking." BJ smacked a fist into his pillow, eyes glowing. "I've missed so much already. What more do I have to give up for this damn war? What more could they possibly want?"

Hawkeye shrugged, draining his glass.

"I don't know how much more -- Peg shouldn't be alone, not now. She shouldn't have to worry about fixing the leak in the roof and that clunking noise in the car and -- it's not fair." Prodding at a discarded package with his foot, BJ waved a hand in a wild gesture. "Look at that, will you? That's what my marriage has been reduced to. Letters and packages that are routed through Finland. My family's become nothing more than pictures and words." He kicked at the box harder than he meant to, yet all the same felt satisfied as it crushed beneath his foot. "It's not right."

Hawkeye felt a familiar tug deep inside. "Nice of your family to wait so faithfully."

BJ stood up. "You're missing the point!" Glancing down, he added, so angry he couldn't stop the harsh words, "Not that I'd expect you to understand."

Hawkeye thought it ironic that, in fact, BJ was missing the point. "No, I don't expect I could."

BJ stopped. "Hawk, that's not what I meant."

"Yes, it is." Gripping the empty martini glass tighter, Hawkeye stared defiantly.

BJ ignored this. "We were just starting, and they tear me away, stick me in this -- this rat-infested war, and expect me to just take it!" He clenched at the letter. Falling to his cot, he glanced at the man across from him, pleadingly. "Hawkeye, I can't -- my wife -- my daughter -- it's --" He stopped, leaning back.

Hesitating a moment, Hawkeye stood and crossed over, dropping beside the Californian surgeon. "It's awful." He agreed. "It's awful and no one had any right to separate a man just when he was getting started, but that's how it is. That's how it is, and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Sardonically, BJ's eyes flashed again. "If that's your way of comforting a friend in need, remind me to go to Charles next time." He lifted a hand, absentmindedly fiddling with his moustache. "I suppose you expect me to just take this lying down."

"No. Just take it."

BJ rolled over, disgusted. "So speaks the eternal bachelor." As Hawkeye took the hint and made his way back across the tent, he softly muttered, "You'd be saying the exact same things if it were your wife and kid. You would, and you know it."

"Yeah, well." Hawkeye tugged on the light above his head, a wave of relief washing over him as the tent plunged into darkness.

**10. Thou shalt not commit murder.**

He struggled not to gasp as his own heart dropped. Each shake of the nurse's head pounded its sentence on the man beneath his fingers, and gradually, he stopped. Stepping back from the table he let out a bellow for a corpsman, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

Mere seconds passed before corpsman appeared, hovering near his left elbow. "What do you need, Doc?"

"Get this one out of here, and bring in the next patient." He gestured, unable to look at the young boy's face.

"But --"

"I said to get him out of here." He ignored the fallen look that shadowed the corpsman's eyes. "And get someone to ring up Grave Registration."

He turned away.


End file.
